


i feel so untouched

by soulofme



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Pre-Kerberos Mission, Soft Boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:34:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24793972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soulofme/pseuds/soulofme
Summary: “Last chance to back out,” Shiro says, offering him an out. Keith snorts.“You want me to?”"No,” Shiro admits, quiet, and Keith’s heart might just burst.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 46





	i feel so untouched

**Author's Note:**

> untouched by the veronicas is a sheith song. that's all i have to say.

They’re staring at each other, neither of them willing to say a damn word, and Keith feels like he wants to crawl out of his own skin. It’s been minutes, or maybe hours at this point. Time feels like some great unknown concept, something that doesn’t exist between the two of them in this moment.

Shiro shifts, and it’s the most movement either of them have made in a while. The floor squeaks beneath him, loud enough that Keith swears the whole Garrison can hear it. Shiro looks bashful about it, cheeks reddening in a way Keith didn’t know they _could_.

It’s late, late enough that Keith feels his nerves light up inside of him. He’d get in a hell of a lot of trouble, especially if anyone were to find out he’d snuck out to Shiro’s room. But it’s not the first time, not even the first time this week. He’s made an art of seeking out Shiro, finding him even when he tries to hide out from the rest of the world. It’s why they work so well together. They always find each other, no matter the distance.

Funnily enough, though, Shiro’s the one who sought him out this time. And Keith had gone, obviously, because he’s helpless to do anything but what Shiro wants. But the reason behind it all is kind of strange, and Keith’s head still spins in circles trying to understand it.

Because Shiro, for some reason, believes he’s in love with him. That’s the way he’d worded it, anyway. _Keith, I think I’m in love with you_. He hadn’t even said hello before springing that on him.

And then, he’d started rambling. It’s not about Kerberos, he insists, but at the same time it _is_. He doesn’t want to die without saying a damn thing. Can’t let himself die, really, without at least _trying_.

“Are we gonna do this or not?” he asks, sounding clinical. It’s like he’s talking about pulling a splinter out of someone’s finger. Definitely not like he’s talking about potentially kissing Shiro. Making out. Tangling tongues. Whatever the hell people call it.

It hadn’t ever mattered to him. Keith doesn’t have time for feelings and all the strings that come along with them. He figures Shiro had been the same. They’ve got serious work to do, and distractions are an absolute no-go when you have people’s lives on the line.

His eyes drift, over to Shiro’s desk. He’s got his lamp on, shining right down on a folder that looks thicker than Keith’s arm. Kerberos, he knows, without even having to look at it. Shiro had been the obvious choice, of course, and there were some people who were more upset about it than others. It’s impossible not to be jealous of Shiro, Keith figures. Not that he is. He respects Shiro, admires him in a way he doesn’t think many people are capable of doing. No matter what he wants or does, Keith knows he’ll be willing to support Shiro until the end.

Shiro had asked him to talk. But they weren’t doing much of that. Not since he’d gone ahead and said all _that_. They have to do something, though. Staring at each other all night isn’t exactly productive. And hell, maybe there’s a part of Keith that’s curious. Maybe he wants to know exactly how Shiro feels, in a way that makes it impossible to ignore.

“You want to?” Shiro asks, sounding so adorably confused. “Seriously? With me?”

No shit. Keith almost laughs. Who else would it be?

“I don’t do anything I don’t want to.”

It’s the truth, and Keith’s damn proud of it. Shiro nods slowly, hands folded neatly on his lap. Somehow, he’s managing to look so _tiny_ in front of Keith, shrinking in on himself like that’ll somehow make any of this easier.

It’s a lot, finding out that your best friend has a thing for you. But if it’s going to be anyone in this shithole, Keith’s glad it’s Shiro. Shiro is safe. Safer than any other person Keith’s ever met. Granted, he hasn’t let a lot of people in. But Shiro had been tenacious. He’s stubborn like that. Keith likes it well enough. Enough to entertain whatever this is going to shape up to be.

“Right,” Shiro says then, shattering each and every one of Keith’s thoughts. He inches forward, just enough that his knee almost touches Keith’s own. “Can I…?”

“Yeah. Whatever. Go for it.”

He doesn’t even know what he’s agreeing to. Swallowing hard, he can hardly breathe when Shiro leans forward into his space. Like this, they’re breathing the same air. It feels like it’s been charged. Keith swears he can see the electricity crackling between them.

“Last chance to back out,” Shiro says, offering him an out. Keith snorts.

“You want me to?”

“No,” Shiro admits, quiet, and Keith’s heart might just burst.

And then, Shiro’s kissing him.

It’s soft, the kind of kiss you have when you don’t know what the hell you’re doing. Keith’s done _that_ , at least, but Shiro has a way of making everything feel brand new. He can feel himself tensing up, shoulders going tight because this is the closest he’s ever let someone get in _years_.

Shiro’s mouth is soft and warm, like the hand he has on the back of Keith’s neck. There’s hardly any pressure, and yet Keith imagines himself yielding to whatever Shiro wants. When he closes his eyes, everything is dark and he’s forced to focus on the sensations.

The way Shiro feels. The way he tastes. The way he acts like this is everything he’s ever wanted, like Keith is somehow enough for him. It’s a weird thought, and a pretty sobering one. Before Shiro, Keith hadn’t thought he really meant much of anything to anyone. But Shiro reminds him of things he’s forgotten. Especially when it comes to his worth.

“Shiro.”

Shiro freezes, pulling back, hand falling down from its perch on Keith’s neck. He leaves it on his shoulder, though, a comforting weight that Keith appreciates it.

“Sorry,” he says, the bridge of his nose flushed red. Keith shakes his head.

“It’s a lot,” he says, and somehow that doesn’t seem descriptive enough. But he can’t think of any other words. It’s like his brain is leaking out of his ears, leaving him incoherent and incapable of simple _speech_.

“Yeah,” Shiro says, sounding wrecked already. “I know.”

Keith chews at the inside of his cheek. “You really wanted that?”

“Of course,” Shiro says, eyes wide and earnest. “For a while. Maybe always.”

“Always.” He echoes the word. It feels flat on his tongue, like something he can’t even begin to imagine.

 _Always_ and _Shiro_ and _Keith_ don’t go together. Not in Keith’s head, anyway. They’re pieces from three different puzzles, and no amount of forcing will get them to click. But he can see the way Shiro’s chipping away at them, molding them into pieces that _will_ fit together. There it is again, the way he refuses to give on Keith even when everyone else already has.

“Keith?”

He takes a slow, steadying breath. “That all you got, Shirogane?”

It’s easier to pretend to be unaffected, much easier than admitting that all of this is making his senses go haywire. Shiro knows that, they both do. Shiro won’t make this any harder for him than he has to. A small mercy.

Shiro’s smile is small. “Are you sure?”

“Stop trying to get me to change my answer.” He doesn’t bother to hide the way his eyes roll skywards. “I’m not gonna back out.”

Shiro licks his lips. It looks almost predatory. Like this, hunched over Keith, surrounding him in every way, he feels dizzy. He wonders if Shiro feels it too, if he’s as affected by all of this as Keith is.

“Keith.”

“What?”

“I really, really like you.”

He can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of his throat. Shiro’s eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles, wide and uninhibited. It eases the tension between them, makes everything feel a little easier to swallow. He appreciates it more then he can verbalize.

“Way to make it elementary, Shiro.”

“It’s true,” he says, voice dropping low. “I do.”

“I know,” Keith whispers back, even if he really doesn’t.

He’s the one to move first this time, hands pressed firm to Shiro’s knees. Keith’s blood roars in his ears, somehow drowning out everything else around him. Everything that isn’t Shiro, at least. He’s on the edge, he can sense it, and for once in his life, he’s _scared_.

Scared to go too far. Scared that he’ll fall, and that Shiro won’t be around to catch him. Scared that Shiro won’t come back to him at the end of it all. Scared that this will ruin everything. It’s a terrifying, debilitating through. One that almost makes him lose his nerve.

 _Almost_ , because Keith Kogane is not a damn quitter.

When he presses his mouth to Shiro’s, the response he gets is nothing short of enthusiastic. Shiro works his mouth against his, firm, steady, his hands lifting to gently grab his arm. It’s obvious how badly he wants this, but Keith knows there’s a part of Shiro that’s still holding back. He’s always been like that, unwilling to put himself and his own desires first.

They’re complete opposites, in that regard. Keith’s used to not getting what he wants, to not getting anything at all. So when opportunity presents itself, he takes. Sometimes he thinks he’s selfish for it, but then he reminds himself that he’ll never get another chance.

He lets himself fall deeper into Shiro, lets someone else hold his weight up for once. He can feel it, the way this sweet and soft thing between them begins to morph into something else entirely. Naming it will make all of this feel too real, but Keith’s can’t go on pretending that this is the furthest they’ll go.

In a few months, Shiro will be gone. Off to Kerberos to do something great. And Keith, inevitably, will be left behind again. He’s used to be discarded, but the thought of _Shiro_ doing that to him hurts more than he can describe.

It’s an ugly, ugly thought.

He lets Shiro push him back until he’s flat on the ground. It’s clumsy and awkward, so he gets Shiro’s mouth back on his before he can think too much. And Shiro follows after him, brackets his arms on either side of Keith’s head and _melts_ into him.

“Holy shit,” Shiro mutters against the side of his mouth.

Keith bites back a groan. “Not what you expected?”

“No. It’s way better.” The worst part of it all is that he doesn’t sound like he’s lying. “We don’t have to, y’know.”

“Yeah, I know. But I want to.”

It’s true, after all. Keith wants.

He wants whatever it is that Shiro plans to give him. He wants to take it all and wrap it up like a special present for no one but himself. He wants to let himself feel things, things that he’d otherwise ignore because they didn’t seem _important_.

Shiro sits back on his haunches, chest heaving. Keith’s glad he’s not the only one. There’s a hand then, big and warm, hardly sliding under the hem of his shirt. Time grinds to a stop around them. Shiro doesn’t move, but Keith can feel his fingers twitching against his skin.

“This okay?” Shiro murmurs, eyes lifting to meet Keith’s. They’re clouded over, dark grey turned black.

“Yeah. Do it.”

Shiro strips him off like that, hands moving so, so slow. He leaves Keith’s shirt in a crumpled mess on the floor, one that he adds his own shirt to. Keith stares at him, because there’s nothing else he _can_ do.

Every inch of Shiro is perfect. Every bit of golden skin and strong muscle. Sometimes, he forgets how _big_ Shiro is. How he’s capable of doing so, so much. And yet he chooses to be gentle, to be slow and cautious and oh so considerate.

It shouldn’t make sense, but a lot of things about Shiro don’t.

He lets himself touch and avoids thinking about it too much. Shiro is warm beneath his palm, soft even with the sheer width of him. He can feel the way his breath expands his rib cage, the flutter of his heart under Keith’s hand.

Shiro leans down again, wriggling one thick arm under Keith’s back. He’s forced to arch into the firm line of Shiro’s body. The leg he throws around Shiro’s hip moves on its own, curling tight until they’re one solid line from head to toe.

Shiro cups his face, holds him like he’s something delicate and breakable. Keith wants to laugh about it. That couldn’t be further from the truth and they both know it. But Shiro seems to need this, seems to want to take his time and make whatever this is last between them.

“Come on,” he urges him, tangling his fingers into the short hair at the nape of Shiro’s neck. “ _Come on_.”

“Okay,” Shiro tells him, and then he _moves_.

It’s tentative, the first grind of his hips against Keith’s. But it still knocks the breath right out of his lungs. He paws ineffectually at the back of Shiro’s head, accomplishing nothing other than making himself _ache_.

Shiro pauses, and then he pitches forward again. He’s hard. Keith can feel it when he grinds down, when he presses himself into Keith’s body like he’s imaging sliding inside of him. Keith would let him. He’d let him do whatever he wants.

Shiro knocks his knees fully apart, slotting his body into the empty space he carves for himself. Keith lets him, just like how he lets himself drag his teeth down the long column of Shiro’s throat. He scrapes them against his adam’s apple, just to feel the way Shiro shivers beneath his touch. There are goosebumps covering his arms, every itty-bitty hair standing on end.

“More.”

He doesn’t know he’s speaking, not until Shiro tilts his head up to suck a dark bruise behind his ear. He scratches down the length of Shiro’s back, just to feel the way his hips give a sharp thrust against his own.

Feeling brave, he slides his hand down and around, until he can hook his fingers into the front of Shiro’s pants. He’s even warmer here.

Shiro reaches down, coaxing his fingers to push the button through its hole. Keith works the zipper down before he can stop himself, and then he _waits_.

There’s no going back. There hasn’t been since that first kiss, but they really won’t be able to once dicks are added to the equation.

Shiro shifts impatiently. Keith works his jeans down around his waist, dragging his briefs down along with them.

Shiro is _big_. It’s not surprising, but Keith feels himself still at the sight of him. He’s hot and thick in Keith’s hand, moist with pre and flushed dark red.

“Huh.”

“What?” Shiro asks, sounding self-conscious.

“Nothing,” he mutters, sliding his hand up with hardly any pressure. Shiro hisses between his teeth. “Caught me off guard.”

Shiro laughs, high and uneasy. Keith guides his hands to his own pants, lets Shiro work him open until they’re both naked. It’s strange, seeing your best friend naked, but Keith figures they’re a lot more than _friends_ now.

He likes this, likes it way better than having clothes between them. When Shiro thrusts forward again, his cock catches against Keith’s. They let out twin groans, rough and sounding utterly debauched for doing almost nothing at all.

“We’re doing this.”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” Keith warns him. Shiro smiles, the crooked heartbreaker’s grin he loves.

“I never thought you’d want this. Never thought you’d want _me_.”

The air whistles out of Keith’s lungs.

“I want you. All the time.”

It’s as close to a confession as he’ll let himself get. Shiro’s jaw practically drops at him, like Keith’s suddenly started speaking a foreign language.

He’d never imagined anything close to this. Definitely not with anyone like Shiro.

He wraps his legs tight around Shiro’s waist, using it as leverage to roll his hips upwards. He feels the slide of Shiro’s dick between his thighs, the fat head pressing against his sack. And then, sliding past to his hole, where nothing’s been other than his own fingers.

“Have you ever…?”

“Fucked? No.”

Shiro’s eyes grow wide.

“Me neither.”

“Yeah?” Keith murmurs, tilting his head to the side. “Good.”

Shiro has the balls to laugh. Keith kisses him quiet.

They’re not going all the way, probably not. This is enough for now, the heat of Shiro between his legs, the weight of him over Keith. He imagines himself wanting more and decides that he’s taken a very dangerous path.

“Baby,” Shiro croons into his ear, hands running up and down Keith’s sides.

“I’m right here,” he reassures him, holding on tight. Not like Shiro will go anywhere.

“ _Fuck_.”

The word rolls off of Shiro’s tongue. His next few thrusts are fast, fast enough that his skin slaps against Keith’s. There’s a filthy sound building up between them, something that has Keith’s cheeks coloring and his nerves getting shot.

“We’re doing this,” he says, sounding in awe of himself.

“Yeah, baby,” Shiro tells him, pressing soft kisses to the center of his throat. “We are.”

“This…it’s not all I want.”

He doesn’t know how to articulate himself better than that. But Shiro _gets_ it, even when Keith doesn’t think he will. Shiro’s probably the only person in the entirety of the world able to do that.

“I know. Me neither.”

Keith squeezes his eyes shut, overwhelmed by the feelings that wash over him. If it had been intense before, it’s even worse _now_. The sparks between them have turned into full-on flames. But Keith’s not scared to get burned. Not when he’s got Shiro, just like this, _wanting_ him.

“Mine,” Keith manages to get out, and Shiro nods against him.

“All yours, baby,” he says, making it sound like a damn promise.


End file.
